Citizens Erased
by MaybeWolf
Summary: I'm running towards Shapiro's house. But goddammit, of course I am. At least I was right about the whole world coming apart at the seams. Day three of Rade week.


_**Alright, so this is a fragmented little piece. I really suck at writing madness and insanity, so y'know, go easy…**_

* * *

**[8:23am, July 3rd]**

I blow through the halls of Hollywood Arts like a gale. The faceless sea of students parts, and I billow in the direction of my locker. A familiar stretch of steel veers into view, and there's just one person lingering near it. Setting my jaw, I march past the boy and jab my key into the padlock on my locker. Hurling the door open, I duck into my locker and rifle through the objects within. Glaring into the steel, I can practically feel Shapiro's eyes on me.

"What?" I snap, turning over my shoulder and glowering at Shapiro. For once though, he doesn't falter. Beneath the wild raven mop sitting atop his head, I see Robbie's eyes harden. His lips twist, and he leans towards me.

"I know what's in your locker, Jade." He says, words barely catching in the air and drifting to my ears. I make a face at him, and try to hold my nerve. Honestly, I don't care what Shapiro thinks he knows. He's got no idea. But here he is, looming over me, a curve in his lips. I wonder if he's been looking forward to this moment all week. He's been lingering beside my locker, and it feels like everything has been building to this moment for him. Shaking my head, I toss the thoughts asunder. Shapiro's got no idea. Of course he doesn't.

"Yeah, books." I tell him emphatically, edging forward as my lips curl into a sneer. Even as the lie seeps through my lips, Shapiro doesn't shrink away. In fact, he's actually got the gall to bend slightly and whisper in my ear.

"I saw the switchblade." Shapiro states, before straightening up again. My shoulders bunch up, and Shapiro's words coil around something in my gut. Flicking my eyes towards the ground, I resist the urge to cradle my arm. Lifting an arm would stupid. It would be igniting a flame against skin that's been stained by darkness for years.

"Oh, so you assume that I'm going to kill the next person to waz me off, right? Newsflash Freakazoid, I've carried a pair of scissors around since grade school and nobody has ended up chopped into little pieces." I pull the dismissive words from my throat and batter Shapiro with them. Something is different though; Shapiro's eyes are still fixed on me. His limbs haven't folded tightly to his body, and he's not slinking away like he should be. I hold the scowl to my lips, but I can feel my lungs burning.

"I saw your arm too." I feel my chest collapse as Shapiro's eyebrows dip low and he leans down to my level again. I'm too lost in half formed excuses and rationalizations to notice what's unfurling in front of me until it's too late. Without warning, Shapiro's fingers embed themselves into my sleeve. As the blinding white of the lines on my arm blaze into view, I'm frozen. My throat constricts. Until Shapiro drags the material back down seconds after, I can't breath.

"Oh, oh…" I can still feel the burn of Shapiro's fingers on my arm as those same fingers dive into his pockets. Screwing my arms tightly against my body, can't even stitch together a sentence. Shapiro's the first person to shine a flame against my weaknesses, and all I can do is linger in front of Shapiro in stunned silence.

"It's not a dying thing you know…it's…" I swallow the rest of my words, and my lips tighten again. My eyes fall to the floor, and I'm pathetic again. After years of careful construction, all that it takes to tear down the armor I've built is a flick of Shapiro's wrist? I'm weak and nervous, a jumbled mess of limbs. As the silence stretches between us, I'm back to being the scared little girl that I was before ever setting foot onto the Hollywood Arts campus.

"Relieving?" Shapiro's voice clattering into the air yanks my eyes back to him. My lips part, but before a syllable can push through my mouth, Shapiro is already tearing his long sleeved shirt up his forearm. The scars crossing his skin shine as brightly as mine, but he lets them dangle in the air between us. My fingertips fly out and graze the Shapiro's stained flesh. The lines crossing his arm are everywhere, a map of his mistakes.

"Why are you showing me this?" I ask, fingers still latched onto Robbie's arms. My eyes pick out the latest chinks in his armor. It's not hard. I've seen the same fissures in my skin a thousand times before. The lines light the way, and I realize that he's is just like me. At first it's reassuring. But as the gravity of that statement sinks in, so does the harsh reality of the situation. Fuck. _Shapiro_ is just like me. He's broken in some of the same ways I am.

"Why not?" Shapiro asks, shoulders flying up and down like it's nothing. He's acting like the whole word isn't coming apart at the seams, when it so clearly is. The insane urge to scream at him wells up in me. I can't though. of course I can't. Shapiro's lips twitch into a smile, and he whirls away from me. I can count on one hand the amount of times he's look so sure of himself. As his footsteps fade down the hallway, I find myself following him. Falling into step beside Shapiro, I glare over my shoulder at him when he chuckles. He's an idiot. No amount of rips in his flesh will change that.

* * *

**[11:43pm, August 4th]**

I'm running towards Shapiro's house.

But fuck, of course I am. At least I was right about the whole world coming apart at the seams. In the wake of Shapiro creeping through the crack in my armor, I keep finding myself in his company. Ugh, he's always there when I want somebody to watch a movie with or make unkind comments about Vega to. The dork always greets me with the same damn grin plastered on a much too cheery greeting. The worst part of tonight might actually be realizing that the glint of his grin is the light that I'm running towards as my lungs begin to burn.

"Let me the fuck in!" I demand, battering a window that's become far too familiar in the past month. My shriek slashes though the silence, and buried deep in the shadows, movement registers. I let go of a breath that's been buried in my lungs for hours when a gaunt figure limps towards me.

"J-jade?" Shapiro is already unlatching his window by the time my name sails off his lips. As the heavy timber flies past me, I frown. We're both so fucked up, and yet Shapiro's heart isn't withered like mine. I know if I were him, I'd had have rolled over in bed and ignored the crazy girl banging on my window. Throwing my legs over the frame, I guess that its just part of what makes him a better person than me. Slipping into his room, I slump against the wall below the window. With a dull thunk, I hear it shut just above my head. Shapiro chews on his thumb and takes a seat beside me. It's much closer than he would have a month ago, and the worst part is that it's still not close enough.

"I did something stupid…" Shapiro doesn't react when I speak. I know he's listening though, stray words never fly past his ears. He's just waiting to see where these ones lead. I'm not really sure that they're destined to go anywhere though, tonight was a blur. I can't even really remember how I wound up surrounded by ivory walls.

"I went too deep, hit a vein. There was blood everywhere." Details escape me, so I free my arm and yank the baggy sleeve of my sweater away from my latest mistake. That's what it had been, of course. Seeing Cat's Slap update about seeing a movie with Shapiro had just stressed me out, that's all. I don't need to be sharing my punching bag with the one person I'll never be like. If she wrestles him away from me, I know he'll be gone forever, just like the others. While I'm drowning in a rush of emotion, Shapiro is peering down at the dressing on my arm. His eyebrows skew in concern, but unlike my parents he doesn't try to hide anything in the room which happens to have sharp edges. All he does is lean over and smooth out some medical tape that's come loose in my haste.

"Yeah, but you're all patched up now." Shapiro says, smiling warmly as he slinks an arm over my shoulder and pulls me towards him. The back of my head comes to rest on his thigh, just like usual. I told him it was comfortable once, and Shapiro of course, was listening the whole time. Ugh. We're shards from the same broken mirror, but he'll always be better than me.

"Yeah, until they realize I'm gone." Pulling away the other sleeve of my sweater, I jangle a hospital bracelet under Shapiro's nose. Way above me, his chin inclines towards the roof.

"So why'd you come here?" The words tumble casually from somewhere deep in Shapiro's throat, and then he's smiling down at me like I'm not totally screwed. Gnarling my fingers, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with Shapiro. Sometimes the perfect words push through out of his mouth, and other times he's got the interpersonal skills of a robot.

"They're talking about a shrink Shapiro, a special Hospital. You know, getting me help because apparently I'm _so_ troubled. What the fuck am I going to do?" I try to sharpen my voice, and sound as dangerous as Shapiro remembers from last year. I stumble along the way, and wind up with glassy eyes as the last few words trickle through my lips. Robbie's lips purse, and he peers down at me.

"Yeah, you're a regular pot of sunshine." He announces a moment later, making me want to punch him. I'm all set to deliver the killer blow when he stoops down and kisses me on the forehead. I hate that the urge to strike him vanishes when his cracked lips brush my skin. I hate that so much concern has suddenly carved it's way into his face. But most of all, I hate that I'm going to miss his stupid face when they put me away.

"Look, I have an idea…"

* * *

**[2:04am, August 5th]**

"Why are you even doing this?" I ask, eying the thinning buildings that are flying past us. When Shapiro remains silent, I toss my gaze over my shoulder. He's hunched over the steering wheel of a Winnebago that's not technically ours, and watching the road like a hawk. Cracking my knuckles, I twist in Shapiro's direction, and wait for him to say something. He's been like this since we backed out of his driveway. It takes an age for anything that's not directly related to sink into his skull when his foot is resting against an accelerator, apparently.

"Why not?" Shapiro's eyes barely fly away from the road as his shoulders jump dismissively. I bite down on the smirk that's threatening to become a real smile. What kind of person jacks their parents Winnebago while they're in Colorado, and uproots their entire life on a whim?

"Shapiro, if you could not be a child for five seconds, I'm asking to a serious question." I fire back, rapping my knuckles harmlessly against his shoulder to illustrate my disapproval. My eyebrows skew over my nose, and when Shapiro glances at me through the rear vision mirror, his blasé demeanor crumbles. He rattles his head around on his shoulders, and for a moment I think he's going to say something stupid again.

"I'm not kidding. What's in Hollywood for me that I can't find in Mexico?" Shapiro tries to sound nonchalant, but I recognize the hitch in his voice. It's the same hollow sound that creeps into my voice when I already know the answer to something. With my ears still burning, I let my retort linger on my tongue as Shapiro switches lanes and drifts towards an exit on the freeway. His eyes have barely scratched the map since we passed his mailbox. Shapiro doesn't deal with the unknown very well, so I get the impression that he's thought about leaving Hollywood in the rearview mirror before tonight.

"An education, a life, people that speak English?" I wonder out loud, once we're roaring along another straight in the road, and Shapiro's not wholly focused on any minor twists. They're all valid reasons Shapiro could have just gone back to bed and left me to my padded fate, but I contort my lips into a sardonic smirk anyway. He doesn't need to know how much that thought terrifies me.

"Some life." Shapiro sounds unimpressed with the idea of remaining at Hollywood Arts. A little part of me wonders if the prospect of my absence has injected that dismissive tone into his voice. Probably not. We've only grown close in the past month.

Sinking back into my mind, I wonder what the future holds. Who knows, maybe Shapiro and I will find our way back to Hollywood once we're both 18 and can't be committed. Maybe we won't. Jesus, what if we can't? What if Shapiro's parents press charges and we end up in prison? What are we even going to do in Mexico? I know just enough Spanish to offend old ladies and order tacos. Somehow, I doubt it's going to be enough. My nerves are beginning to fray, and my chest feels like it's going to then Shapiro's fingers wander away from the steering wheel and flick me in the shoulder.

"So, uh…I figure if we're the only ones speaking English, maybe you'll consider a date with me?" Shapiro's natural charm soaks his words, and drowns some of the negativity that's swirling around in my head. When I glance at Shapiro again, he's back to staring out at the road. Running my hands over my temple, I realize I'm running from the inevitable if I say no. That little worm has been burrowing his way into my heart for the last month. It's only going to get worse in Mexico.

"Maybe…I mean, why not?" I answer, biting down on the smile that threatens to light up my face when Shapiro's lips contort into a grin that threatens to envelop his whole stupid head. I snake a hand out, and pry one of Shapiro's hands away from the steering wheel. His spine goes rigid, and his eyes immediately find mine. I let go of my lips and let them sail upwards. Shapiro looks at me for a moment longer, but then turns to the road grinning moronically to himself. Ugh. I can't believe he's the one making my heart swell.

Well, Mexico here we come.

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_**And there you have it. **_

_**The ending is a little ambiguous, but I think it fits with the fragmented nature of this story. They're kind of OOC, but I was going for Robbie as having found his confidence with the realization Jade ismessed up in some of the same ways as him, as her finding a fondness for him rooted in the same thing. **_

_**Bleh. I hate it, but hopefully somebody out there likes it. Leave some reviews, even if they're just to say "Boo, you suck." :) **_


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